Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 3 December 1891 — Page 2

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little old woman in mob cap and cotton gown—no other, indeed, than Myie Gardner, who, in obedience to her husband's call, had descended the stairs and now stood amazed 'at the sight of stranger.

The young man looked at' her calmly from head to foot, then turned away and proceeded to divest himself of his wet wrappers. This done, he took a chair before the fire and put his feet on the hob. "Come, don't stand looking at me tike two fools," he said, "but give the a glass of toddy! At the naif fiour I shall be on the road again he added, gazing at the hands of the Dutch clock which stood in a corner •f the kitchen. "That will give the horse seven minutes to rest and feed, and if the brute hasn't had enough by that time why it must starve, that's all!" "Hae you far to gang, sir?" asked Sampson, who had resumed his pipe and seat while Mysie busied herself over the fire preparing hot water for the stranger. "I'm bound for Linne Castle. Is that far away "Only six miles, sir but a gniesome road on siccan night. I'm thinking you would be wise to bide here."

1§S?

••til

/4V

And I think I should be a fool." Neither spoke again. m-s The young man with his feet upon the hob quietly sipped his toddy, gazing moodily at the hands of the olock as the slowly traveled on. smoked his pipe and

gtSanpson

lanced alternately at the fire and the dark face of the stranger, while Mysie quickly spread the cloth upon the table and prepared the evening meal.

Presently a slight click of the olook announced the half hour. The stranger rose, drained off the last of his toady, pud the score, wrapped his plaid around him, pulled on his hat and had the door thrown open just as the noise of the wheels of the trap was heard again at the front door.

Old Sampson bade the stranger food night and a God-speed on his journey. Mysie curtsied and smiled out the young man took no heed. Without a look or a word he crossed the threshold into the darkness and

The young man leaned back and laughed to himself as the carriage rolled through the gates and along a road which seero-ed to wind into a

dense black mass of woodland. Here the wind whistled more drearily than ever, here the rain fell in a shower from the swaying branches of the fir-trees. And the young man raised his face to receive the drops, and laughed. Then he got a fit of imDatience and urged the driver on.

But the road was bad, and the progress was slow. At every turn they seemed to plunge deeper into the mire, until the stranger began to think that they had lost their way. At length, however, a faint gleam of light reassured him. In two mintites more the dogcart stopped before the door of the lonely house

The driver quickly alighting, rang the bell, while the young man slowly unrolled himself from his rugs, and ascending the flight of stone steps, reached the top as the door was sl6wly opened.

It was opened by a shabby old man in plain dress, who bowed at the rfght of the traveller, and standing aside, gravely invited him to enter. Doing so, the young man found himself in a hall, large and lofty, with a black and white stone paved floor and heavy oaken rafters. A

faint blue light was cast from a lamp which hung suspended from the rafters. "How is my uncle?" he asked Quickly. "The laird is nae better," returned the man, gloomily, as, bowing again, he led the way across the hall, ana ling the door, motioned him

"If

The Heir ©f Lrinn©.

BOOK THE SECOND.

@4——

To™ wheeU told them that he was being borne away. .. She was quite

"Lord preserve as a'!" muttered iukeeper. "He's like an ugly wraith {ganging to the boose o' death." said Sampson. "I would rather the Rob Roy be without sjtrangers than receive siccan lim"mers as you."

Meanwhile the dogcart containg the stranger traveled slowly along the road.

It was blapk dark all round. Every hour the wind was increasing in violence and the chilly rain fell in ceaseless patter upon the ground. The young Shan sat moodily silent by the driver's side, never even moving save when a blast of wind struck him with greater violenqe than usual or the rain drops beat into his blinded eves. "A God forgotten place," he said at last, as the dogcart stopped and 'the driver whistled shrilly to call forth the lodge keeper to oren the gate. "Is the entrance to the Castle?" "Ay, me doot," said the driver. "Then the old fool at the inn lied. He told me it was six miles to it, and we can't have come six." "We have come four sir there is two more to travel." "What is the drive through the grounds two miles long?" "Ay, is it!"

TWENTY YEARS AFTER.

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.

CHAPTER VI.— CONtinubd.

you will

chair,

pleased to

will inform

the laird

are-here,''

said

ihfcn he

closed

the door and re-

I v-4,

^Sr

young man turned on his heel, and looked searchingly around the room. It was shabbily, even meanly, furnished, dimly lighted, and sombre looking. Old moth-eaten hangings drooped about the doors and windows while from the walls gazed down the forbidding faces of the lairds of Linne for many generations past. Oppressed by the intense gloom of tne place, the young man snivered, and was about to draw near the faint spark of fire whfifch flickered in the grate, when the room door opened, and the servant again appeared. "The laird's compliments, and will be pleased to tak' your dinner? He'll maybe gie himself the pleasure of seeing you later on."

The young young man started, but said nothing then he made a movement of assent, and fdllowed his guide up to a sleeping room over hea& "Dinner will be served in ten minutes, sir," said the man as he closed the door. "When! a warm reception to give to an affectionate nephew," said our traveler, when he found himself alone. "I begin to think the old fool is daft indeed! But after all, there's method in his madness. A good dinner is by no means to be despised after such a journey."

He proceeded to make his toilet carefully. When he had finished, he began to feel quite cheerful, and as he descended the stairs he whistled a lively air.

The grave servant stood in the hall to receive him again. As he approached, the dining-room door was thrown wide open. Assuming all the airs of a grand seigneur, he was about to enter the room, when suddenly his eye Mil upon an object which mae^i.bi0 pause right in the shadow of the door.

CHAPTER VIL

MARJO&IE.

The cause of this sudden and embarrassed pause was a young girl, who, clad in a dress of plain homespun cloth, stoo'd upon the diningroom hearth, gasing abstractedly towards the door. As the young man appeared, she bowed slightly, but he without returning the salutation, con-

girl, not more

than eighteen years of age, with eyes of azure blue and a skin like alabasHer figure was slight^ but full

lissome eurves, whioh were revealed by the clinging folds of her tight-ly-fitting dress. But for her delicate hands and strangely white complexion, she might have bcfen taken for some peasant maiden. Her hair was bound up in a simple snood, her robe was simply out, and reached only to the ankles, and a white kerchief was laid lightly round her neck and over her bosom.

When the young man had made appearance she had stood calqa and self-possessf self-possessed: but as that curious id upon her from blood suffused and she quickly

gaze remained ri the doorway, the her face and neck, turned away. "I beg your pardon," said the young man) stepping forward then, as she merely rowed again, he added quickly, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Eward Linne."

If by this information he expected to ascertain the girl's identity in return, he was disappointed The mention of his name merely served to dispel her momentary confusion, and, with a cold inclination of

%h.e

head, she moved away, took her seat at the head of the table, ana mentioned him to be seated too.

Edward Linne was not the sort of young *man to be easilv put out. ^Although only five-and-twenty years of age, he knew as much of life as most men of fifty, but this sort of oonduot rather, puzzled him and made him feel anything but at his ease. Had he been left alone with the girl, he confidently believed he would have soon succeeded in breaking through the ice. As it was he felt that his conduct was being quietly but keenly watched by the solemn-faced servant who stood behind the girl's chair, and he was uneasy under the scrutiny.

He was staggered, too, by the girl's wonderful self-possession. What could she be, so calmly and so eoldly to do the honors of tne house. She was dressed little better than a peasant, yet her manners were those of a somewhat reserved young lady.

thrill of terror ran through him. Could his uncle, the laird, have married after all, and have a family, and perhaps, besides a daughter, a son and heir.

It was years since he had met his uncle, and they had never been on very good terms. Some days before he had been summoned from Paris, where he was then amusing himself, to come at once to the Castle, to whioh in all his life before he had never received an invitation. His uncle's eccentric habits and extraordinary love of solitude had long kept all his relatives at a distance.

Scarcely a word was spoken during dinner. All the young man's attempts at small talk proved unavailing. The girl wttt oeld as an idole and declined conversation. Fortunately, the mmk which consisted of the very elraplMtifcre, •t,:—-•" 4^3

Wil *rt-

at length the ordeal came te

an end and the girl

rose

seat aad with

from

her

icy

bow left

him.

"Who the devil is she?" he soliloquized when he found himself alone. "6he isn't a wife, for she doesn't wear a ring, and my venerable uncle can't, surelv, have a daughter."

He rang the bell, asked the servant if his uncle would see him th&t night and received an answer in the negative. The laird bad already retired to rest. "By the way," he said, "you only served water at dinner and I am somewhat thirsty. Can I have something to drink?' "Ye can hea some soor milk, returned the old man, grimly. "Sour milk! Nice, lively liquor, in this climate. Have you no wine?" "The laird," returned the servant, with a snort, "allows nae wine or fermented liquor intil the hoose. He's been toototal these ten years." "Humph! Perhaps you can inform me who the young lady is who sat down with me atd inner?" "She's just Miss Majorie," was the reply. "But who is she? What is she doing here?"? "That's naneo' my business," returned the old man. "If you're curious, aSk the laird 1" "And with another grim bow the old man left the room. 'Pleasant quarters!" muttered Linne. "They may well call it Castle Hunger. Mutton broth, boiled mutton and carrots for the gentle board and not a drop of wine. Well, I suppose I must content myself with a cigar."

He suited the action to the word and began to smoke. He had not been sp occupied many minutes when the door opened and the servant stalked in. $

The laird's compliments, and will you put oot that tobacco? The smell o' the filthy reek is filling the house, and the laird can scent it in his bedroom!"

With difficulty suppressing an oath Edward Linne threw his cigar into the fire.

Here, show mefmy room," he oried "I'll go to bed." The old man ne&rad, and taking a candle from the table, led the way slowly, and calnjlv to a dismal chamber at the top of tne house. §g| "Mind ana blow oot the light," wsre his parting injunctions. "Stop, give me some lucifers!" "We hae nane. The laird .-forbids lucifer matehes until the hoose. Dae ye want to burn us a' in our beds?"

By noon the next day Edward Linne found himself closeted with his uncle.

The laird of Linne was now a man of about sixty years, with ill-health written in every line of his countenance. He lay baok.on an old tafjfetry couch in his bedroom, and fixed his eyes upon bis nephew's face, as if to read his very soul. "You've o'er much of your father's blood in you ever to do much good in the wtrld," he said. "A yoting lad who gambles and bets and has disgraceful amous (ah, ye see I know!) at five-and-twenty, is not likely ever to be a credit to his family."

The young man colored, bit his lip, tepped the floor impatiently with foot, and said nothing. "I am glad to see you lack the face to deny these things," said the old man peevishly. "I ken your past life won't bear looking into. What I want is to make you promise better for the future." "Of course, uncle, I will promise," said the young man eagerly "I have been wild, I know most young men are but I have come to years of discretion now." "So had you father when he married your mother and yet—and yet —Edward Linne," continued the laird eagerly, "do you ever intend to marry?

The young man laughed uneasily. "I suppose I shall succumb to my fate some day." "Say ye so?" said his uncle grimly.

You mean—when you wear my shoon?" For a time the old man lay looking at the fire, then he turned again to his nephew. "Edward Linne,'* he said, it was never with my consent that they filled your head with all this folly, and made you live a useless life because of my wealth, mind that! When my brother married your mother, he was dead to me. When I heard of your wild extravagances and numberless follies, and was told that they regarded you as my heir, I laughed in my sleeve, and used to think how bravely I would deceive them. Bnt when your father died, and broke the shameful chain which bound him to his kith and kin, my heart was kinder towards his son!"

He paused a moment, and continued— "I excused your follies for the sake of what your father once was to me. I was willing to regard you as my relation by blood. Your subsequent conduct was told to me, and once or twice I was on the point of striking our name for ever from my will, iut in the end I refrained. Weel, I am willing to forget and forgive again, if only you will put your hand in mine and promise never a^ain to do aught thaV could bring disgrace upon our old name. I know you have no affection for me or mine. I know it's only the hope of my death that brings you here now but, if

gain your promise of amendment, if I thought that the old place would be safe with you, why, I can, maybe, die in peace. "Unci**" said the young man, :jna^ tly, "it it to hard to trust meT^ Oan not MUata that I t#U speakthetrtittir^

it yet your past life promises but ill, I'm thinking. There, go now." he •aid, waving his thin hands impatiently "I want Mar jo fie."

As he spoke, he juched a' small handbell that stood beside him, and almost immediately, in answer to the summons.there appeared in the dark doorway the fair, cold face of the young girl that had graced the dinner table with her presence tho night before.

She bowed to the young man as coldly as she had done on the preceding night, but when she reached the couch whereon the laird of Linne was lying, and took her seat on the small footstool by his side, her blue eyes lit up with such alight of affection as made the young man wonder still more. Then, as the old roan again signalled for him to depart, quietly moved from the room, and left the two together.

[TO BE C9NTINTED.] ... LIFE IX CALCUTTA.

Mrs. Samuel Merrill Describes a. Punkah and Talks of laI'lJ Servants,

In4iaaapolIe Jour&al. The following is an extract from an interesting letter from Mrs. Samuel Merrill,of this city, now a resident of Calcutta, India, for a few years. It was written to a personal friend here. After the introduction Mrs. Merrill says: "What do you say to our h&Ving become Methodists? We have made up our minds to attend that church while we are here. We like the minister, who is an American, and we feel more at home there than in the grand cathedral, where all the court people attend and all the fashion of Calcutta are in the Scotch Presbyterian, where the hymns are all strange to us, and the preachers have so strong an accent that it is very difficult to understand him. The punkahs in the church are a great hindrance to hearing,and must De very annoying to the minister. I counted them one night in the kirk, and there were forty, all swinging back and forth qjrer ouj heads, and every one at a different rate of §le§d. Sometimes the minister would be entirely shut off from our sight. Then his head would appear only to disappear again behind another punkah, and so it went on the whole time. At first the great fans waving to and fro, made me sea-sick but I do not notice them now except for the delightful breeze they blovfr over us. Life in India would be unendurable without these luxuries, and it is almost so with them. Perhaps you do not know what a punkah looks like. I did not till I came here. It is simply a long board to which is fastened a frill of stiff muslin, a foot or two wide. This is suspended from the ceiling and is pulled to and fro b^ a native who sits out in some bask room. A rope is fastened to the board and passed through a hole in the doorwaj' or wall to him one man pulls eight hours, then another takes it. He is paid very little above $2 a month, and on this he supports a family. "The wages here are very low, but we have to have so many servants that our nine attendants cost us more than two good ones at home. These men wear so few clothes, just the cheapest, thinnest musliu, and eat so little, just rice and the native vegetables and fruits, that a dollar is a great sum to them. They eat but two meals a day, and generally "but one. It rains every day. the air is full of moisture, so that the whole house smells musty, every article of clothing mildews, pins rust in the cushions and needles in the needle-book. We packed away our evening dress in a tin box and had it soldered. Then*the roaches and ants are out in force, and are not pleasant companions. We are obliged to keep a big lamp burning behind the piano all the tim^to keep it from rusting even then the wires rust and the hammers are covered with white mold. All the time it is perfectly hot, and we are most wild with prickly heat. The mosquitos are bald, and we are never entfrely free from fleas. The constant heat and rain make everything grow, and the trees and shrubs are most beautifully fresh and green. Then the cloud scenery is remarkable great -masses of vapor of many different colors piled up high are really a magnificent sight. We have no refreshing foods. The native fruits are exceedingly sweet, like honey. Bananas are all we can eat. How we long for home products, something like pieplant, currants, gooseberries, strawberries, cherries, grapes and apples. California fruits can be had, but they are very expensive."

The letter shows that Mrs. Merrill will be glad to be at home once more.

Tackmaking

This country beats the world for tacks, and sends them by the billion to housewives in every quarter of the globe. The tackmaking machinery, too, is a wonder of semi-intelligent mechanism. It would be even more wonderful but for a single difficulty tliat has not yet been overcome. An intelligent observer in a tackmill conceived the idea of utilizing electricity in such a manner as to increase the output of every taok machine tenfold. His idea was to pick up the metallic blanks from which the tacks are made, ten at a time, by means of a series of magnets. When he hsd his idea perfected he showed it to the

Ssturer

eatest of taok makers. The manulooked it over carefully)

and

said: "That is extremely ingenious, but do you know that the blow which cuts out the metallic blank converts it into a magnet, and that your frag-

INTERIOR DEPARTMENT.

The Secretary Thereof Submits His Annual Report.,

All of the Work of the Department Well In -Hand—The Record of a Year Briefly Summarized, 'w

The annual report of tlie Secretary o' the Interior was made public Monday. Il shows that the General Land Office is nearly abreast of its work that the Indian bureau is accomplishing the rapid disintegration of the Indian reservations, the severance of tribal relations and the education of the Indian youth: that the Pension office is rapidly completing the allowance of all pensions legally passable under the laws, moving at the rate of about thirty thousand a month that the Railroad liuireau is making ready for the maturity of Ithe debts duo from the subsidized railroads, the Union Pacific and others 'that the Bureau „of Education, beside having distributed the vast fund allowed ttae agricultural colleges for white and qfllorecl pupils in the different States ijj plans for the accumulation and distribution jnf^TSi&tfon useful for the schools and their better management and that the Patent Office, having celebrated its centennial is still &d~ vancing in the variety and volume of its' interesting and great investigations and patents. Regarding pensions, the report says: The present issue of certificates is about thirty thousand per month, and it is thought that the Pension ureau will be able to carefully adjudicate 350.000 claims during the present year. The work at this rate will allow all lawful pension: claims within the next thirty months, and of course all first payments will then have been disposed of. This alone will cause a drop of $30,000,000 in the appropriations and the list will thence on steadily diminish from natural causes. It is predicted that the pensions will, when the highest point Is reached, not cxceed very greatly he present sum, and be subject to a great decrease immediately after. The estimate for 1893 is $144,956,000.

The Territories of the United States are all shown to be prosperous and growing. The Secretary advises against the admission of Utah as a State.

RAILROADS.

The Commerce Commissioners Submit their Annual Report.

Statistics Galore—Mileage, Number of L,ocomotives and Many Other Figures of Interest.

The third annual report of the Interifcate Commerce Commissioners is out. It Ihows that railway mileage in the United Btates on June 30,1890, was 163,587 miles: the increase in railway mileage brought Into operation during the year was 6,034 tniles. The total length of tracks for the United States, including all sidings and Spurs, is 209,060 miles. The number railway corporations on June 30,1890,wa 1,797. There were seventy-four companies fn the U. S., whose gross income in 183!) Bras $837,000,000, out of a total gross iucomq pf all roads in the country of $1,051,877,03^

The total number of locomotives in th« United States was 29,928, of which 8.38-1 tvere passenger locomotives and 1G,14C freight locomotives. The number of cars nsod on the railways of the United States »pas 1,163,138, of which 26,511 were in the passenger service. The number of tons of freight carried one mile per freight engine Iras 4,731,629' and the number of passcn|ers carried one mile per passenger engine leas 1,413,142. The total number of men employed on the railways of the United {States was 749,401, being an increase of 16,559over the number employed in 18S9. phe number of passengers carried during ihe year was 429,430,865, the number of ions of freight 636,441,617. The total number of persons reported by railways a9| being killed during the year was 6,320, and |he total number reported as injured was te,034. Of the total number killed, 2,451, itrere employes, 285 passengers, and 3,5 8* ilassed as "other persons."

NEARLY THREE HUNDRED LOST •Kr AT SEA.f/ -a

A dispatch from Manzanilloo, Mexico* says the American steamer Roseville has. arrived there and reports passing the brig Tahiti at sea, floating bottom up. The! Tahiti created a sensation September 30 last by putting into Drake's bay, San Francisco, in distress. She had 870 Gilbert Islanders on board under contract for work in Mexico at starvation wages. These men were practically slaves and there wjis much talk seizing the vessel. Collector Phelps, however, decided be had do right to detain lier and the brig left. It seems almost certain that all on board have been lost, as the ship's boats were still with her and nothing has been heard of any of the survivors. The wreck must have happened at least a month ago. Beside the inlanders, the vessel had no board officers and a crew of twenty men making a total of 291 on board the ill-fated craft, n-f

THEY SHED TEARS

When Their Paator Announced That He

to Become a Catholic.

Rev. James Spalding, D. D., the cele. brated Episcopal divine, pastor of the historic Christ Church, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Sunday, in his pulpit, made public, per announcement, his reasons for his resignation from his charge and withdrawal from his church. He. formally acknowledged his intention of joining the Catholic church, saying that after long and mature rejection he had become convinced that it only had the unity of faith and dogma that would satisfy the earnest student of Christianity, sod its claim of authority in exnounding the truth and truths of the faith best founded. He claimed general tendenoy of PrttsptafctItia towutf fttMk Itswalof IrriwwT „v

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Omci—la Gant'a Block, corner Pen*, tod Mala streets. Residence, Went Mailt

GKBBMVIBbD, I2TD.

H. BINFORD,

unmr-tmir,

GREENFIELD. IND.

CURST

THOMAS,

LOAN AGiTSJ

MONUMENTS IN

MARBLE AND GRANITE.

Boom 15 Iee C.^Thayer Block. 15187

ffALTKX O. BBAGS. JOHW CORCOEAK.

Walter 0. Bravv & Co-

4.BSTBACTORS OF TITLE, NOTARIES PUBLIC, •rw LOAN, and INSURANCE AGENTS.

Soon 14, L. C. Thayer Block.

R€

OBERT A. GUY,

Auctioneer and Fainter* HAFLB VALLEY, INDIANA.

Prices reasonable and satisfaction guaranteed.

ll-91-tf

HUMPHREYS'

ixawanaaaBMHBBMmmmmmmmmmmmm Da.

Humwiebys' Specifics

are scientifically and

carefully prepared prescriptions used for many years in private practice with success, and foro*E* thirty years used by the people. Every single Specific is a special cure for the disease named.

These Specifics cure without drugging, Ing or reducing the system, and' are In fact deed the sovereign remedieaoftheWorl

LIST OF PRINCIPAL KOS. CURES. PBICB& 21 Fevers, Congestion, inflammation... .2 2 Worms, Worm Fever, Worm Colic.. :t Oyinsr Colic, or Teething of Infants .Si 4 SHurr&ca of Children or Adults ,'S Dysentery* Griping, BiliousCoUc 2j 5 Cholera Morbus, Vomiting 7 Coughs, Cold, Bronchitis 5 Neuralffin,

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K"»eu:tia r.imrt, Rheumatic Pains.... i(i Fever and Ague, Chills, Malaria.... 17 Piles, Blind or Bleeding* 19 OntarrJi, Influenza, CoidintheHead

£0 Wfinopi jijlt CourSi,

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f:oIi( by Driigntets, JJOHtpafil on receipt of prip*. Dil.

1 /m:!:v*'

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'iC2cbm»nd.

Vers

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S E I I S

Indianapolis Division.'

Iyennsulvaniaynes.1

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Hand SO connect at Columbus tor

Pittsburgh and the Fast, tmd at Iliehmoud for Dayton, Xtniu and Mpringlield, and No. for Cincinnati.

E A. FORD^

JOSEPH WOOD, fijcanl IfaajN Gmtal Range il4S4k-R Pirrenrnan, Fkhit'a, ^,Fot tjhtpagfrjUc